


Give and Take

by a_stands_for



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dom/sub, Dominance, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Locker Room, Love Bites, M/M, Non-Sexual Submission, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Public Display of Affection, Slash, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:46:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_stands_for/pseuds/a_stands_for
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the kink meme. Originally posted June 2011.</p><p>In which John is a little too possessive of his best friend, and Dave is a little too okay with that.</p><p>Also: Striderchiefs!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give and Take

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: submissive!Dave and dominant!John. Originally posted [here](http://homesmut.livejournal.com/6376.html?thread=8064744#t8064744).
> 
> (Today the A stands for Assertive _and_ Amenable)
> 
>  

There was no denying that Dave was one very cool kid; it was just the sort of thing that other people noticed. He didn't even have to do anything, really. When he walked down the crowded hallways at school between classes, the mass of bodies always seemed to just _part_ around him. Occasionally some unobservant underclassman might run smack into him, and Dave would stop and stare at the kid. The kid would blink and look up, gazing into those black shades like they were staring into a vortex that could devour their soul, and begin to sweat and stammer, mumbling apologies and edging around him as carefully as possible. He would turn his head and follow their retreat with his unseen eyes, his expression perfectly neutral, yet the freshman would still spend the next several weeks on tip toe.

Every time something like that happened, John would make it a point to run Dave into the lockers as soon as he started walking again. The blond would draw his brows at him in a glare, rubbing his shoulder where it had whacked a handle, and John would flash him the widest mischievous grin imaginable. “I just wanted to make sure you weren't getting a swelled head, Dave!” he laughed.

Dave would sigh, and though he couldn't see it, John knew he was rolling his eyes at him.

When they were settling into their seats before class, and one of their classmates dared to butter the Strider up over his excellent grades and beg to copy his homework, Dave shooed them off with a dismissive brush of his hand. “Do your own damn work.”

As soon as the student was gone, John yoinked the slip of paper out of Dave's hands. “Hey!” he barked.

“ _Please_ , you copied this off of Rose, anyway,” John snorted, and proceeded to compare it with his own homework to check for errors. Dave crossed his arms and slouched in his chair, a cool gesture that in no way resembled a sulk. The corner of John's lips twitched in triumph.

When the school band loaded up into a bus for State finals, one of Dave's more persistent female fans stole the seat beside him, so John sat by Rose instead. They spied on him the entire ride, laughing at the many failed attempts on the part of the girl to flirt with him. In desperation she eventually tried to rest her head on his shoulder, but chickened out under the intensity of his stare.

The band performed awesomely, of course. On the trip back, John reclaimed his usual place at Dave's side, and as the evening crept on he decided to flop over and put his head in his lap.

“What the fuck, Egbert? Get off me, I'm not your damn pillow.”

“Yes you are, don't even deny it. You are totally my pillow.” He shifted to press even more heavily across his legs and refused to budge. Dave made no effort to dislodge him, and soon he was fast asleep. Rose and Jade regaled them with much amusement later about the way Dave's lady-fan had turned red and green with anger and jealousy.

Because Dave was such a coolkid, people were drawn to him and intimidated by him in turns. John was only a dork and a nerd, but he was Dave's best friend. It gave him a fiendish sense of satisfaction to know that he had what everyone else wanted, was immune to what everyone else feared. Dave's rejections or glares never fazed him; he plowed right over them all, confident that his friend would let him know if he ever _truly_ objected to something. And he never had yet. Dave was really just a softy hiding under a bunch of bluster!

Dave was secretly grateful for John's brazen disregard. He had an image to maintain, after all, one of aloofness and boredom, but he would be miserable if no one could see past his face value. Half the time, when he was pinning someone down by his eyes alone, he was merely waiting to see what they would do. He didn't actually object to most of the things people did around him. If they would just keep going instead of backing off, he might have felt a smidgen of respect for them. But no one ever did except for Rose, Jade, and John. Especially John. Egbert had practically made it his life's mission to do every single thing anyone else chickened out of doing. It was almost cute.

Such was Dave and John's understanding of their relationship. Until the day that John got artsy in Study Hall.

* * *

It was a Friday, and Study Hall was the first class they had together that day. It was usually spent in a brief flurry of homework copying, followed by a lot of goofing off. Dave was already getting out his mp3 player to help pass the long, boring wait until next period.

“So, I'm single again,” John whispered with a sigh.

“Already? That one didn't even last three days.”

“Same reason as usual. Am I really that bossy?”

“Egbert, you are pig-headed mule, an unstoppable runaway train, an unrelenting force of pushiness.”

“Thanks. So glad I can count on you to make me feel better.”

“Don't sweat it, man.”

“What about you and that one girl... Pamela? Is she still all up in your grill?”

“I think she's giving up hope.”

“You could just ask _her_ out instead. Or give her a hint.”

“Hey, any girl who can't grasp how important irony is to me is a girl I don't need.”

“They're starting to spread rumors that you're gay.”

“Not my fault.”

“Doesn't that bother you? Your reputation could be at stake!”

“I could be the most flaming homo you've ever seen and I wouldn't be any less cool.”

John laughed. “Yeah, if anyone could pull that off, it'd be you.”

“Damn straight.” Dave leaned back in his chair, slouching down and putting his feet on the desk. The teacher glared at him but didn't do anything about it. Popping in his earbuds, he let his head fall back and quickly lost himself to the music.

John stared into space for a while, thinking morosely about his string of girlfriends before deciding he needed a distraction. Putting his homework away where it would be safe, he pulled out a few blank sheets of paper and swiped some of Dave's nice ink pens. He didn't appear to be in the mood for cartooning today, so they were free for the taking.

He started out with a few funny faces and heads, but after a while they all started to look like clowns. John had no idea why that always seemed to happen, but it never failed. Scribbling them out, he tried to make some simple doodles with swirling lines and geometric shapes. Not bad. He made a giant Sierpinski's triangle next, coloring in all the smaller triangles with different colors. Nice, he could even claim he was doing it for geometry class! Soon bored with that, he next tried drawing Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, but he could never make them suck quite ironically enough.

Running out of free space on the paper, John moved to his hand instead. The feel of the pen rolling over his skin was oddly pleasant. Slowly and steadily, he drew metal plates and bolts from the tips of his fingers to the top of his arm where it disappeared up his sleeve. Soon it looked like he had a robotic arm. Awesome!

He tried to draw a bunny and a plane crashing over the Hard Rock Cafe on the other arm, but he had to switch the pen to his less dominant hand for that, so they came out kind of sloppy. Switching back again, John looked over to find that his friend was watching him now, feet still on the desk. His arms were crossed slackly over his stomach.

Struck by sudden inspiration, John pulled out his biology textbook and flipped through it until he found a diagram of a human skeleton. Turning sideways in his seat, he grabbed one of Dave's arms and stretched it out, holding him firmly by the hand like a gentleman about to bestow upon it a kiss.

Dave arched an eyebrow, but his arm remained slack in his grasp. John grinned and began doodling a skeleton on the back of his hand. Every now and then when he looked up to reference the diagram, he noticed the head of a classmate quickly turn away. For some reason this made him feel incredibly pleased with himself.  _Yeah, that's right suckers! You only_ wish _you could do this!_ John finished with Dave's hand and fingers and moved further up his arm, his supporting hand stroking the skin a bit more possessively then he had intended to. Dave seemed to grow tired of watching, because he let his head fall back with a soft sigh.

Long strokes were followed by numerous little ones, as John added some hatching to make the bones look more three-dimensional. Once the ulna and radius were done, John scooted his chair closer and started in on the humerus. Dave seemed to grow more and more relaxed as he poured over his work. John could understand why; it was almost like getting a massage! Finished, he admired his drawing for a moment, then eyeballed Dave's other arm. It would be difficult to decorate it from this side.

He pulled out one of his friend's headphones, releasing the tinny sound of music. “Turn around,” he ordered.

Dave lifted his head back up and gave him one of those unreadable stares, like he always did when someone confronted him. John waited patiently, a confident smile on his face. Sure enough, in a moment the Strider slipped his feet off the desk, stood up, and settled back into his chair straddled backwards. He put his earbud back in and suffered his other arm to be captured as well.

John chewed on the pen cap in thought for a moment, forgetting that he was getting his over-large teeth marks all over one of Dave's good pens. He was bored with drawing bones now, so what should he do next? Something ironic would be nice. Clichéd tattoos?

Nodding to himself in agreement, he applied the pen to Dave's bicep, drawing a ring of twisted barbed wire around it. Dave gave a little snort of amusement, which John knew meant he approved. Once he finished that, he started in on an elaborate tribal tattoo, the thick lines curving and zig zagging around each other as they trailed their way down to his wrist. Across his knuckles he wrote the word “COOL” in elaborate script. That left only the back of his hand blank. He twirled the pen as he pondered what to put there, then grinned wickedly. A few minutes later and Dave was adorned with an extremely flowery heart, the curly, cursive initials “E.B.” inside. Let everyone wonder what that stood for!

At long last the bell rang, and amidst the flurry of noise and activity John gathered up Dave's pens and gave them back. The blond stared at his hand and shook his head with a long-suffering sigh. “Great. Now can I wash this stuff off?”

“Nope! You have to wear it _all day_.”

“Whatever, man,” he scoffed, but didn't say anything else on the matter.

By lunch time, John had managed to smear his robotic arm and Con Air illustrations so badly that he had to wash them all off. Dave's artwork, however, was impeccably flawless. Now that they no longer matched, it was even less obvious who “E.B.” was. Some of the students who hadn't heard about the Study Hall incident or had the chance to see Dave yet today were whispering around, wondering who the mystery person that the coolkid liked was. Rose arched an eyebrow at John, who tried to whistle innocently and failed because he couldn't stop laughing.

By the end of the school day, the ink on Dave's arms had grown a little feathered and blurred, but still remained in remarkable condition. He garnered many a stare as they walked together to the shitty apartment Dave shared with Bro, where John had already made plans to spend the weekend. As usual, though, he ignored the teeming masses with effortless indifference.

They let themselves in, dumped their bags in the living room, and crashed on the futon for some educational detox via video games. As usual, Dave kicked his ass at every single one.

Bro arrived home a few hours later with a few fragrant bags of takeout. As they tore into them like a pack of wild dogs, he stared at his little brother's arms with an arched brow. Especially at the hand. He didn't say anything at first, just let them finish wolfing down their food like he couldn't care less what shenanigans they got up to at school.

After they were done eating, though, when John wadded up the trash and went to toss it in the bin, Bro suddenly materialized behind him, placed an arm casually across his shoulders, and whispered something into his ear.

Bro was a man of few words when he wasn't rapping, and this time was no exception. Dave was pretty sure he only said a single sentence. He watched as his best friend turned around to stare at Bro with a confused expression, glanced over at him and his ink-stained arms for a moment, then looked back into those pointed shades.

And turned a brilliant shade of red.

Both of Dave's eyebrows shot up as John shuffled back over to the futon in a daze. “What'd he say?” he asked, curiosity burning him to know what could make a prankster like Egbert look like his gambit had been soundly thrashed.

“Nothin',” he mumbled, staring intently at his feet.

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“It's noth—I mean, forget about it. Let's do something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don't know.” He shuffled uncomfortably, his eyes wandering over to his handiwork on Dave's skin. “By the way, you can wash that off now.”

“Oh I _can_ , can I.”

“Yes. In fact, I insist! Go wash that shit off.”

Dave waited, but John wouldn't look him in the eye to deign him with one of their usual stare-downs. Finally, the younger Strider shrugged and stood up. “Whatever, man. I was just about to take a shower anyway.” He slunk off down the hallway for the bathroom.

Not long later, the sound of running water could be heard. John sprawled across the futon and let his eyes rest vacantly on the ceiling, listening to the sound and emptying his mind. He didn't want to think about anything. He especially didn't want to think about what Bro whispered in his ear. He especially  _especially_ didn't want to think about its implications.

John did an impressive job on zoning out, because before he knew it the sound of water had stopped. _I should probably go brush my teeth and change_ , he thought numbly as he pulled himself to his feet. Grabbing his bag from where he'd tossed it earlier, he entered the hallway the same time as Bro emerged from his rarely-used bedroom on the end.

Dave had opened the bathroom door already to let the steam out, a towel wrapped around his waist as he combed his wet hair. He poked his head out upon hearing his brother emerge. “So Bro, what the hell did you say to my man Egbert to get his panties in such a twist?”

“Aaah, don't tell him!” John shouted, running forward to block his path. Bro only paused for a second before closing the door behind him with a soft click and stepping casually forward. He placed a firm hand on John's shoulder.

Then slammed him into the wall, drew back a fist, and punched a hole in the drywall a mere hair's-breadth away from his head.

John's big blue eyes were as wide as dinner plates. He gaped at the older man with shock bordering on fear. A small cloud of drywall dust settled gently over the strands of his black hair, a few chunks landing on his shoulder.

“When it's _me_ ,” Bro said in a deceptively neutral voice, “you _ask._ ”

John had to work his throat a few times before he managed to squeak out “Uh-huh!”

“Good lad.” He pulled his fist out of the wall, shaking off the white powdery coating it had gained. “As it just so happens, I wasn't planning on telling him.” He turned and gave his little brother an acknowledging nod before strutting the rest of the way down the short hall. “Goodnight, little dom. Goodnight, Dave.”

John watched him go, still a bit shaken. In a moment, however, confusion settled over his features. “Dom? Where'd he come up with  _that_ name? Do you have any idea what it means, Da--”

He trailed off as he looked at his friend. Dave had suddenly leaned against the bathroom door frame, the hand over his mouth failing to hide the look of dawning revelation that was creeping across his face in time with a brilliant blush.

“Dave?”

He shook his head, tried and failed to regain his cool, then stepped hastily across the hall to enter his bedroom. “Sorry, man, no idea,” he answered, not even looking in his direction.

John huffed in indignation and followed him in, slamming the door. “Yes, you do! Tell me!” Dave ignored him as he dug around in his closet for a pair of clean boxers.

“ _You_ tell _me_ what Bro said to you earlier.”

John paused, then shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “I don't want to,” he mumbled.

“Well, there you go.”

More awkward shifting. “If I told you, would you tell me?”

Dave straightened up and turned around, finally looking him in the eye. A few drops of water dripped off his hair and ran down his chest, but he didn't seem to care. “No.”

“What?!” John cried in indignation, but Dave ignored him and spun around to resume his search. Irritated now, the dark-haired boy dived forward, reached around his neck and put the blond in headlock.

“'the hell?” Dave growled as he stumbled backwards. John took advantage of his loss of balance to pull him off his feet, both of them landing on their butts on the floor. He quickly wrapped his legs around Dave's before he could get away, still tugging hard around his neck.

Normally, John would be no match for his friend in a fight. But most of Dave's prowess was in speed and swordplay, and right now he had neither. He'd been caught by surprise and was already in an extremely disadvantageous position. Wrestling and brute strength were much more up John's alley.

“Just tell me, Dave. You're going to eventually anyway.”

“The hell I am,” he choked, pulling hard at John's arm and twisting his body within his legs. John could feel sweat running down his face as he struggled to keep his hold. Even with all his advantages, there was still no guarantee he would win this. He could tell that Dave was losing his towel, but they were both too angry and occupied to worry about embarrassment yet. _Why_ they were so angry, neither quite knew.

Dave stretched backwards, trying use the leverage of John's leg-lock to force him back as well. John rolled them over instead, pinning him on his stomach to the floor. An elbow rammed into his gut, and as John coughed and winced, Dave finally slipped the arm off from around his neck and began to crawl forward. John grabbed his ankles, endured a few kicks as his friend turned over, then pulled on them hard, sliding his opponent back under him. Slamming his greater weight across Dave's stomach hard enough to knock the wind out of him, he grabbed each of his arms and pinned them above his head on either side. He quickly did the same with his feet, the soles of his shoes cutting painfully against the bare skin of Dave's feet, his legs trapped slightly spread-eagled.

John waited for Dave to catch his breath, watching his flushed, sweaty face as he labored for air. “So. Will you tell me now?”

The younger Strider coughed a few times and made a few testing pulls against his restraints. He turned his head to look, then leaned back with a ragged sigh. “Geez, Egbert, it's not like it would have been hard to figure out on your own. It's just short for dominant.”

“Oh.” John blinked, trying to figure out what was so bad about that. “Is that all? Why'd you get so touchy about it?”

Dave stared at him incredulously, then let out a long, exhausted sigh. He tilted his head back as far as he could, then went completely limp. All the fight went out of him as the tension evaporated from his body.

For a moment, John assumed it was just his usual hands-in-the-air, “I give up” reaction to blatant displays of Egbert-Ignorance. But he was still breathing so hard, and there was a thick tension in the air that seemed unusual for the situation.

The situation. Suddenly, it occurred to John that he was laying full-length on top of his best friend, who was naked as a jaybird. His towel lay abandoned several feet away. John sat up a bit, taking some of the pressure off Dave's chest but still not releasing his iron grip on his wrists. Dave still didn't move, pliant and unresisting in his hands. John stared down at him, absorbing the red tinge that colored his tan skin, unmarked but for a prevalent dusting of freckles. There was no sign left of the ink that had decorated his arms.

Suddenly, the sentence that Bro had whispered into his ear after dinner played over and over in his head like a self-hypnotizing mantra. John's eyes dilated as they slid over to Dave's neck, which was exposed to him in a strange gesture of surrender.

Of submission.

_You know, kid, a hickey lasts longer._

Possession.

Oh, _fuck_.

John lowered his head, nuzzled the crook of Dave's neck and shoulder, and bit aggressively, _mindlessly_ , into his flesh. Dave let out the most peculiar cry; half pained surprise, half desperate relief, before bucking his hips into John's. There was something rapidly hardening between them, and John let out a sob when he realized he was responding in kind. He ground down against him, frightened by the intensity that was taking him over but unable to stop his body from seeking out the delirious pleasure.

“Oh gog, Egbert, don't let me go!” Dave croaked, his body wracking with shudders as he pulled helplessly against the firm grip that kept him pinned. The urgency in his voice and actions set John's blood afire, and he sucked mercilessly at his neck while his lower half rutted and pressed his clothed erection against Dave's bare one. Sweat was soaking his shirt, his arms were trembling violently and his pants felt far too tight, but he couldn't stop for anything. Shame could come later. Thought was unwanted. There was nothing but the coolest of coolkids, captured beneath him and moaning obscenely while the fire of lust burned them alive. With a cry he felt the wetness explode in his underwear, felt the way Dave's dick throbbed as _his_ release soaked into his shirt. 

John felt a brief feeling of disappointment that he wouldn't be able to see Dave's cum splattered over his chest, wouldn't be able to take his own spunk and paint trails of it over Dave's thighs, smearing it in so it could soak into his skin and  _oh gog what are these thoughts???_

John suddenly collapsed. He let his head fall beside Dave's and the two of them laid there, panting and gasping and quivering with shock. Now that his body had been satisfied, the urge to dominate his best friend sated, he was beginning to realize what they'd just done. And it was freaking. Him. Out.

“Oh, shit,” he whimpered into Dave's shoulder. “Oh shit, oh shit oh shitohshitohshit!!”

“Calm down, Egbert,” Dave tried to say soothingly, but his voice was scratchy and tremulous and only served to drive home into John's brain what he'd done.

“Shitshitshitshitshit, what did we just _do_?”

“I believe it's called frotting.”

“I know _that_ , Dave! But isn't that sex? Does it count as sex?”

“Some people might count it like that, I guess.”

“Oh gog, I just lost my virginity! To a man! To my best friend!”

“In that case, so did I.”

“What?” John finally raised his head, mild incredulity trying to find room on his face around all the borderline hysteria. “But you're so... so...”

“Yes. I am. But you know me, I fend off anyone I don't like and never take the initiative with the ones I do.”

“Oh, man. Oh, man, what are we gonna do?” he plowed on, completely missing the underlining confession in Dave's statement. “I... I'm not gay!

“I know.”

“Fuck! I'm freaking out, here!”

“I can see that. Let's just calm down, take this in baby steps.”

“O-okay! Okay.”

“First: Get off me.”

John blinked, finally realizing that he was still splayed over the blond's body. He bolted up, crawling to the side so Dave would have plenty of room. The coolkid sat up quite slowly, his movements elegant and smooth. John couldn't help but stare, baffled by Dave's apparent comfort with his own nudity. His eyes wandered down his body before he jumped up with a blush to fetch him the abandoned towel.

“Second: Let's get you cleaned up. You're a mess.”

John looked down at his sticky shirt and pants with dismay. “Yeah... yeah, that'd be good.” He moved to the door of the room, peeked nervously in the hallway, then darted over to the bathroom, grabbing his dropped bag on the way. Safe inside, he stripped off his clothes and cleaned himself off, changing into the sleepwear he had brought over. He went ahead and brushed his teeth, then stared guiltily at his pile of semen-soiled clothing. After a moment's debate, he hid them under a stack of wet towels.

Slipping back across the hall, he shut himself inside Dave's room again, turning to look at him with a wide-eyed, vulnerable expression. Dave had finally managed to find a pair of sweatpants and was sitting nonchalantly in his computer chair, waiting for him.

“Now what?” John asked quietly.

“Now you're going to repeat after me: What I just did does not make me a homosexual.”

John blinked in surprise, but obediently repeated it.

“Next: Having sex with a man doesn't make me a homosexual.”

“Wait, it doesn't?”

“Nah, man, haven't you heard the term 'men who have sex with men?' Not to mention bisexuality.” He gestured at the page he had open on his computer. “Being 'gay' is a sexual _preference_ , an identity, and if you don't identify with it, then you don't identify with it. I have a sneaking suspicion that you have a lot of misconceptions about this sort of thing.”

“Like what?”

“Like anal.” John immediately flinched as if Dave had said the dirtiest word imaginable. “Yeah, that's what I thought. Anal has nothing to do with being gay and everything to do with a liking for anal. And that's all there is to it. You could be a het couple and do it all the time, or a gay couple and never touch it.”

“Oh.” John rubbed the back of his neck shyly and walked over to take a seat on the bed. “But that still leaves us with one major issue.”

“That being...?”

“We still just had _some_ kind of sex together, Dave.”

“That. Yeah.” He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Would it make you feel better if I said it was _awesome_?”

“Dave! This is serious!” John scolded, though he still looked a touch mollified.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He sighed, nudging his chair from side to side in a nervous gesture. “The way I see it, we have two out of three options.”

“Okay... wait, what?”

“One, we can pretend this never happened, sweep it under the rug, and try to go on like normal.”

John gave a little nod of acknowledgment, rubbing his arms as if cold. “Number two?”

Dave rolled the chair a little closer, though not enough to make his friend nervous. “We see where this goes.”

The dark-haired boy swallowed, staring at his feet. “I see. So... what's the third, non-option?”

“We break off our friendship.”

John's head shot up, panic in his eyes. “I don't want that!”

The blond rolled even closer, reaching out tentatively to take one of John's hands. He felt encouraged when he didn't flinch. “Neither do I,” he said, putting as much sincerity into his voice as possible. “That's why it's not even an option.”

John gave him a weak smile, rubbing his thumb over the hand holding his. His eyes wandered down to the bite mark on Dave's neck; it was blossoming into what looked to be an impressive bruise. It gave him a peculiar feeling in his chest, seeing it there.

“Can we, maybe, go with Option One while I think about things? I'm just so... I don't know.”

“Sure, Egbert. You can have all the time you want. I promise.” John's eyes darted back to his face, and Dave gave him a little twitch of a smile. John smiled back, shakily but genuinely. It was a far cry from his usual derpy grin, but his friend cherished it just the same.

The absolute worse-case scenario had been averted. They could live with anything else.

* * *

The rest of the weekend was passably normal. They played games, they watched movies, and (eventually) did their homework. The only major difference was, any time Bro walked through, they both turned and  _glared_ at him.

“Funny. I sense a chill,” he said sarcastically after the fifth time.

On Sunday John finally went home, where his Dad greeted him with a fatherly smile. “Did you have a good time?”

“Oh, um, yeah. It was... eventful.” He ducked any further questioning by escaping to his room, where he crashed on the bed and engaged himself in the highly entertaining pastime of staring into space.

He'd promised Dave he would think about things. Unfortunately, that meant that he was eventually going to have to _think_.

What did he want out of life? To get married to a beautiful girl? Have lots of kids that he could instruct in the fine art of pranking? Maintain his friendships with his three best buddies?

Most high school friends tended to drift apart after graduation. They ended up going to different colleges, finding new friends, maybe even moving permanently to new cities as they got married and/or started their careers. He didn't want that, but he wouldn't be surprised if Jade and Rose ended up far away in the pursuit of advanced education. But what about Dave?

Somehow, John had always assumed that they would make sure to get into the same college, live together as roommates while they settled into the working world, and eventually find some nice girls to marry. But what if their wives or their jobs demanded that they move away? What if they only ever got to see each other when they set aside the time and made a special trip? What if they never got to see each other again at all?

John rolled over, burying his face in his pillow. He didn't want to think about these what-ifs anymore! They were making his throat hurt, like he was about to cry. He and Dave couldn't part, they just couldn't! No, no, no! Dave was  _his!_

John sat up, hunching his shoulders. No, he shouldn't be thinking like that. Dave had his own life to lead. He was meant for great things,  _cool_ things. He didn't need his nerdy friend holding him back.  _But... I don't want to give him up!_ John pulled up his knees, holding them to his chest. Gog, he was so messed up.  _This is why you should never have sex with your best friend,_ he berated himself.

Night eventually fell, but it left John feeling no more sorted out than before.

* * *

The first thing John noticed when he met Dave at school on Monday was that the cool kid was wearing a handkerchief tied stylishly around his neck. His initial reaction was relief, that no one would see the hickey and start the rumor mill running.

His second reaction was disappointment, for the exact same reason.

“Hey Dave!” he said casually as he fell in step beside him. “Starting a new trend?”

“You know it. By the end of the week, the entire school will be wearing these things. 'Striderchiefs,' they'll call 'em. Shit, I'd better copyright the name real quick so I can cash in on the royalties.”

John grinned widely, flashing his goofy teeth. Gog, how did Dave come up with this stuff on the fly? He was just so clever! Not that he would ever tell him that, of course. Dave got plenty of praise from the teeming masses. John saved his for special occasions.

They stopped by their lockers, grabbed their books, and parted ways to head off to their first classes. So far, so normal. This wasn't so bad. John could handle it.

English droned on interminably. At one point, John looked down and realized he was doodling on his papers again. With a sudden flush, he put his pencil down and leaned back. Maybe he should drop that habit. It got him into this mess in the first place, after all.

On Mondays his first class with Dave wasn't until gym. As the mass of boys piled into the men's locker room, John rejoined his friend's side once more.

“What do you think we'll be doing today?” he asked cheerily, making absolutely sure not to look while Dave changed into his gym clothes.

“The dodge balls are out.”

“Yesssss, I _love_ dodgeball!” John and Dave were an unbeatable team at that game. The Strider would stand on the court, hands in his pockets, weaving like water around every projectile, while Egbert dived and caught every ball he could reach, tossing them back at top speed. They were a perfect evasive/offensive combo.

There were a few groans around them. John looked up to grin victoriously at his classmates, then blinked. While most of the boys facing them were giving him dirty looks, there were a few eyes watching Dave. This was nothing _new_ ; Dave was a lean, muscular guy who invoked the envy of all men. But for the first time, it occurred to the dark-haired boy that some of those burning gazes weren't necessarily envious. They were perhaps a touch... appreciative. Dare he even say it; lustful?

John stepped casually around his friend, blocking their line of sight. He smiled at the perpetrators in a manner that a cursory glance might mistake as friendly—but his eyes were a little too narrowed, a little too cold. The guilty parties stared at him in surprise, then looked away, going hurriedly back to their business.

“You done, Dave?” John asked brightly. “Let's head on out.”

The blond finished pulling his shirt over his head and checked the position of his handkerchief. His expression didn't change, but John still had the distinct impression that he knew exactly what had just happened and was amused by it. He gave a nod and they exited for the gym.

Sure enough, it was dodgeball day. John grabbed Dave's arm and pulled him to one side of the court, hopping excitedly like he'd had too much sugar for breakfast. Which was probably true. When the sides were sorted and the balls had started flying, John couldn't help but glance at his friend every now and then, admiring the way he swayed, spun and bowed as if dancing. As soon as he got his hands on a ball, John made sure to target the boys who'd been staring in the locker room first thing. They were out in no time flat. Next up, he took out anyone who threw a ball at Dave. It wasn't long before no one wanted to throw a ball at either of them, because John would either catch it or seek retribution.

Not surprisingly, they were the last two standing.

When it was time for the second round, they were separated by popular demand. John didn't mind; this gave him a much better view of his pal's slick moves. But one of the locker room leerers was on Dave's team now, and seemed to be using the opportunity so he could bump clumsily into him, gripping him by the shoulders in an unnecessary save to keep him from stumbling.

“Oh, sorry man!” John could just overhear him say. Dave removed his hands from his pockets for the first time since the games began, reached up, and brushed off his shoulders where he'd been touched.

Moments later, the creep was out of the game via a fastball to the face.

Once again, John and Dave were the last two players. “Come on, finish it!” came a few cat-calls from the bleachers. Dave looked their way and they shut up. He strolled up to the front boundary line, empty handed as usual, while John walked to the edge of the attack line, tossing a ball from hand to hand.

“Win or lose?” the stockier boy called.

Dave shrugged his shoulders. “Up to you.”

John grinned. “'Kay. Don't move.”

The blond stayed obediently still as the ball flew forward and bumped him lightly in the chest. The winning team cheered and laughed good-naturedly, the losers groaned in resignation. The coach just sighed, and didn't bother trying to separate them after that. Once time was running short and everyone headed back to the locker room, John made a point to stretch his arm casually around Dave's shoulders, flashing a smug look at the boy who still had a red ball-shaped print across his forehead. The boy grew even redder and scowled.

They had to part ways after that for different classes, but the smoldering sense of satisfaction lingered on.

* * *

“That is an interesting new accessory you have there, Strider,” Rose said as she and Jade joined them for lunch. Dave reached up and gave the ties on his handkerchief a little tug.

“It's for science.”

“Is it, now?” she asked archly.

“Yup. Egbert and I are studying how long it takes for my coolness to overcome people's fashion judgment.”

“I see.”

“I think it's cute!” Jade chirped in. “I'd wear one!”

“See? It's starting already.”

“Hmmm,” Rose murmered, interlocking her fingers and resting her chin on them. “Are you sure you're not just using that as an excuse to hide something?”

“Don't be silly, Lalonde. I've never even been kissed.”

John abruptly choked on his drink.  _Holy shit, we_ didn't _. I had sex with my best friend and I didn't even kiss him! I've gotta fix that immediately!_

_Wait._

“Really,” Rose continued. “After your little stunt last week with 'I heart EB' and that scarf today, people are wondering if you're dating Evelyn Beauregard. She's known to be a biter.”

John gripped his fork a bit too tightly.  _Fuck, no._

“I think not. She wears way too much perfume. Besides, you know as well as I do that John wrote that.”

“Of course.” Her eyes slid over to the man in question and she gave him a heavy-lidded smile. “Who else would you let leave you so... marked.”

John suddenly burst into a nervous sweat. Okay, time to change the subject!

“So, um, Rose! Did you do anything fun over the weekend?”

“Not really.” Her smile grew a touch wider. “Did you?”

_Crap. Subject change fail!_ “Oh, uh, you know. Hung out with Dave. Man, what's up with lunch today? It's like the lunch-ladies are just giving up and feeding us MREs.”

“Oh, I don't know, I thought today's fare was unusually palatable. What do you think, Jade?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, it's pretty good! I thought you liked this the last time they served it, John.”

“Oh, d-did I? I guess my tastes have changed.”

Rose's grin was positively vicious. John's face went blank for a moment, then turned a horrified red. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Dave cut her off with a sharp word.

“ _Drop_ it, Lalonde.”

She frowned and glared at him, and he glared right back. After a moment she realized he wasn't going to back away from this and sighed. “Fine.”

Jade blinked and looked back and forth between the three of them. “Did I miss something?”

Rose sighed again. “Nothing, dear. Just put your head back in the clouds.”

“Oh. Okay!”

* * *

The rest of the day managed to pass fairly normally. Tuesday went by the same, although with a notable increase in the neckerchief-wearing population. On Wednesday, as John walked down the hallways between classes, he looked up to notice Evelyn Beauregard standing far too close to Dave, discussing something with him.

“It wouldn't work out,” he heard Dave say as he got close enough to overhear.

“Why not?” she asked, moving closer and trailing her fingers up his arm while he leaned further and further away.

Dave coughed. “Because I can't hold my breath that long.” Her mouth dropped open in shocked indignation as he slipped deftly from her grasp and strolled away. As he passed John he gave him a nod, which the dark-haired boy returned with a smile. They continued on their way to their separate classes, while Evelyn returned to her friends to complain.

She hadn't got more than two or three lies out before she felt a burning gaze on the back of her head. Perplexed, she turned around to see what was the matter.

That boy who always hung around Dave was walking by, his intense blue eyes stabbing into her soul, conveying a message by willpower alone.

_Come near him again and I will_ eat _your_ uterus.  _And it will be cooked in the heat of your flammable perfume._

When Evelyn turned back to her friends, her face had gone white. No matter how they pleaded, she never spoke of the matter again.

* * *

Come Thursday, more than half the school population were decked in Striderchiefs. Rose could only shake her head in disgust.

The passage of time also brought no lessening of the number of people flirting with the coolkid. John had no idea if Dave had suddenly grown even more popular, or if he'd simply grown more observant to that kind of thing. Whatever the case, it was making him more and more irritated. He and Dave weren't going out. His friend had no obligation to wait until he made up his mind before choosing to accept someone else's offer. The thought filled John with a panicked sort of fear. It made him feel irrational. Impatient.

He needed to sort out his feelings _soon_. Before it was too late.

How did he feel about Dave? It was obvious that he cared for him deeply, possessively. But could he look at him romantically? Sexually?

_When my brain's not_ already _addled with lust, I mean._

He stared at his friend all through Science class. His blond hair was soft and sleek, and John could easily imagine running his hands through it. Sideburns framed his angular face, which couldn't be described as anything but handsome. Dave had surprisingly kissable-looking lips for a man, and once again John regretted not taking the chance when he had it. His body was thin but not scrawny, dense with muscles honed by long years of training with his brother. If he'd been looking at anyone else, even if they had an identical build, John had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn't even notice, much less care. But on Dave, it was... attractive. Maybe even  _very_ attractive. Thoughts of Friday night flashed in his head, and John squirmed and tugged at his collar.

Yeah, he definitely didn't need to be thinking about  _that_ in the middle of class.

Okay, how about romantically? Assuming for the moment that physical appeal wasn't going to be a problem, what about the emotional side of things? If they were going out, how would their relationship change?

Actually, the addition of kissing and sex was the only thing John could imagine being different. That was either a sign that John had a very poor imagination, or... or...

John started sweating and shifted in his seat again.

No wonder Rose had picked up on their secret so fast. It was beginning to dawn on him that they may already be closer than was proper for two best friends to be. The only thing missing was their own realization of that fact.

John never heard a word of the science lecture. But he still walked out of the class with a head spinning with thoughts.

* * *

“Are you alright?” Rose asked at lunch. John was doing that _thing_ , where he vibrated his leg with restless energy, and it was shaking the entire table.

“I'm fine,” he responded brusquely. His eyes darted around the cafeteria, seeking out anyone who dared look in Dave's direction. Too many. There were always too many.

“You seem a bit... on edge.”

“Do I?”

So many people were wearing handkerchiefs, striving for any kind of link with the coolkid. He was starting to hate the damn things. He eyeballed the one around Dave's neck. If he just reached over and started untying it, he knew his friend would do nothing to stop him. The bruise would be visible to all, the gossip would spread like wildfire, and the entire school would know by the end of the day that Dave had a lover. An aggressive lover. Combined with the way John had been acting this week, it wouldn't take long for everyone to figure it out.

But then the sneers would come. The cruel teasing, the stares, the assumption that John was gay, even though he didn't see himself that way. (No one would tease Dave about it, of course.) This was the dog-eat-dog world of teenagers, after all. Could he live with that kind of persecution?

John finally settled his eyes on his untouched tray of food. This was so hard. It was so hard, and nobody understood.

He felt a brush against his arm. Startled, he looked up at Dave again, but the blond seemed absorbed in the mysteries of his own lunch tray. That didn't stop his hand from sneaking unobserved under the table, finding his own, and giving it a little squeeze.

Suddenly John felt worlds better. His leg stopped shaking the table, the creases smoothed from his brow, and his appetite finally returned.

Well. _Someone_ understood.

* * *

Friday came at last, marking the passing of an entire week since the incident. John endured his first few periods impatiently, anxiously. He wanted Study Hall to come. He wanted to be with Dave.

He wanted to tell him something.

When the bell finally rang, he bolted from his seat and out the door like the wind. Thoughts of Dave were running through his head on eternal repeat. His name chanted through his brain like a skipping record.

_Dave, Dave, Dave, Dave, Dave, Dave... Dave? Where are you?_

John looked around in puzzlement. Normally Dave waited for him at his locker and they walked to their shared class together. After twisting his head in a few directions, he spotted the sunglasses-sporting blond being pulled by his hand toward the gym by a short, pretty girl with a Striderchief. He looked indifferent, but the girl was obviously bursting with excitement.

Wait. Was that... Pamela? The girl who'd been up in his grill for a while?

John's heart started beating wildly and he hurried forward. It was harder to navigate the hall without Dave's forcefield of coolness to clear the way, though, and the going was slow as he kept bumping into people. He earned a few rude gestures and startled cries as he weaved his way through or simply plowed people aside, but he paid them no mind.

He saw them duck into the open doors of the gym. There were no classes there during this period, so its vast, open space was surprisingly quiet and private.

_No no no no no no no._

John slowed as he reached the entryway, heart pounding in his throat. Nervously, he peeked around the door, listening hard.

Pamela had lead him not far past the entrance, parking him against the wall which the Strider immediately used as a surface to lean against, arms crossed. She looked up at him with her large, pretty eyes and smiled in delight.

“I finally figured it out! You were just waiting, weren't you?”

Dave stopped scanning the empty room and looked at her. “Was I?”

John waited for her to wilt under the force of his stare, but she seemed unaffected. “Yes. Waiting for someone to realize on their own what they needed to do. There's nothing ironic about a guy as amazing as  _you_ asking out any girl he wants. But,” and she stepped closer for this, staring hopefully into his shades, “what if it's the girl asking you? Would that be ironic enough?”

Dave reached up and ran a hand through his hair. John held his breath without realizing it.

“It would,” the coolkid confessed.

The world came crashing down around John's head, bursting into a million, billion cutting shards.

“Normally.”

The apocalypse paused.

“Normally? What did I miss?”

“Nothing, really. Someone just beat you to the punch with something even more ironic.”

The world stopped ending and lifted off of John's shoulders, leaving him feeling light-headed.

Pamela's eyes clouded up a little. “You're already going out with someone?”

“Not... as such.”

“You're _not?_ Then what's the holdup?”

“I'm waiting for something.”

“You wait an _awful_ lot! Don't put your life on hold for other people! You're the star! It's you!”

“You're losing the irony again.”

“Aagh!” She stamped her foot impetuously. “Just... can't you give us a try? While you're waiting?”

“No.”

“Why not? You could be waiting forever!”

“For this person, I would.”

She blinked in surprise, recoiling slightly. Her eyes were wide and hurt as she stared at him; hurt, and maybe a little sad.

“Are you...” She stopped, eyes darting around as she avoided his gaze, then tried again. “Are you... in lo--”

“OH, hey Dave, there you are!” John blurted out cheerily as he came round the corner. “We're going to be late for class at this rate, what's taking you?”

“Just chattin' up the ladies, you know me,” Dave responded casually.

“We were discussing going out,” Pamela butted in coolly. Temperature-wise, not awesomeness-wise.

John laughed, causing an offended look to flash across her face. “Don't be silly! Dave's not going out with you.”

“Oh? And why not?”

“Because I'm telling him not to.”

Her expression darkened and she spun around to face the blond, as if trying to cut the intruder out of the conversation. “And do you do everything your friend tells you to, Dave?”

He adjusted his shades. “Pretty much, yeah.”

She stared at him in mute impotence, and John took advantage of the moment to slip past her and latch on to Dave's shoulder. “If I tell him not to go out with you, then he won't. And if I tell him that the handkerchief thing is getting pretty old and he should ditch it, then he'll do that too. Won't you, Dave?” he finished softly, blue eyes half hidden by his lashes as he stared at the colorful scrap of cloth below his nose.

In response, Dave reached up and began untying the knot with hands that only trembled slightly. A moment later the fabric fell away, revealing the purple and yellow bruise it had hidden.

Pamela's eyes bugged out of her head as she stared at it. She reached up and fiddled with her own neckerchief unconsciously, swallowing hard. Dave turned to face the dark-haired boy, and their faces were mere inches apart.

“Oh, um, I think I hear the bell ringing,” the girl mumbled as she stumbled backwards and retreated towards the door. “I'll just, uh, be off then.” She vanished with a red-faced “Eep!”

John stared intensely at Dave, or more specifically, at Dave's lips. “Let's skip Study Hall.”

“Okay,” Dave responded, a touch breathier than normal.

John reached a hand across and placed it against the wall, cutting out the rest of the world. Then he gave Dave the most enormous, adorkable grin imaginable.

“After giving it much thought, I have decided to go with Option Two!”

“You're such a derp, _John_ ,” Dave smirked, and then they were kissing like it was the End Times after all.

* * *

Somehow they managed to stumble their way into the empty locker room without ever breaking apart. John backed Dave into the lockers, pausing just long enough to rip both their shirts over their heads before attacking his lips again. They were just as kissable as he had imagined, and it was driving him _insane_.

He ran his hands up and down his boyfriend's bare chest and sides, stroking and gripping the skin possessively. Dave shuddered and moaned into his mouth. A small, niggling voice in John's head was trying to get his attention, saying _don't you think you're moving a little too fast?_

A much louder voice, which sounded suspiciously like Dave's, countered:  _Are you fucking_ serious _?_

_You're in the middle of school! Anyone could come in and see you!_

_Mmmmm, yesssssss_ , the voice crowed, and now it sounded like his own. _Exactly._

The voice of reason had no reply to that.

The locker room was full of long flat benches, bolted to the floor on thick metal poles. John steered Dave over to one of them and laid him down across it, their legs straddling either side and resting against the floor. For a moment he just stared at the reclined form, taking in everything from the freckled shoulders to the treasure trail of blond hairs leading invitingly down to the button of his jeans. Gog, how could a man be _so sexy?_

Dave lifted his arms above his head, and for the first time John realized he was still clutching the handkerchief in one hand. “Is that an invitation?” he asked, his mouth full of saliva.

“I think you've got an idea what my kinks are,” Dave purred.

John swallowed and got up, walking around to the end of the bench. Dave crossed his wrists above his head, breathing harder as John tied them together. When the knots were firm, he slipped the loop of his arms over the end of the bench. As John walked back around him, he trailed his fingers over his skin, starting from the elbow and moving slowly and teasingly downward. He brushed over one of Dave's flat pink nipples (which earned a sudden inhalation,) skimmed through the line of hair that ghosted down his stomach, and teased circles round his bellybutton.

Then he grabbed Dave's hips with both hands and pulled his entire body down the bench a few feet. His bound wrists caught on the support pole, pulling his arms slightly taut and depriving him of escape.

“Fuuuck, yesss,” the coolkid hissed, tugging against his restraints and bucking his his hips into the air. John had to wipe his mouth real quick to keep from literally drooling.

_Oh my gog oh my gog oh my gog oh my gog!_

Egbert slammed one hand onto the bench above Strider's head, bent double over him, gripped his soft pale locks with the other, and plunged his tongue into his mouth. He just wanted to bite those plump lips until they bled, pull hard on his hair until he gasped, and scratch great red trails down his chest! He struggled to keep the violent impulses away. Nonononono, he wasn't ready for that yet, though he suspected Dave would love it. This was their first time together as a couple. John didn't want to spend it causing the man he loved pain.

Softening the kiss, he untangled his fingers from Dave's hair and stroked his jawline instead. The blond relaxed, working his tongue languidly over his goober teeth. When John finally pulled away, panting softly and face flushed, it occurred to him that he could finally do something he'd been dying to do for half his life.

He let his hand stroke higher, across Dave's cheekbones, and up to his shades. Then he ever-so-gently slipped the eyewear up to rest on top of his head.

Oh, gog.

He knew that Dave's eyes were red, in much the same way that one knows that light reflecting through water droplets will form a rainbow. The glimpses John got of the eyes behind his glasses when his head was turned aside were akin to seeing a rainbow from afar. But this... this was like standing in the middle of one, and about as miraculous.

His lashes were long and pale, fluttering as he blinked in the unaccustomed light. His pupils contracted as they struggled to adjust, showing off as much of that crimson hue as possible. They weren't a solid color; veins of lighter and darker red radiated out in spokes, and the entire iris was flecked with tiny golden specks. As Dave recovered, his focus shifted to look into John's own blue orbs, and for a surprisingly long time they could do nothing but stare at each other's eyes.

At long last John shifted higher, and Dave closed his eyes long enough for him to plant the lightest of kisses over each lid.

_This is a sight no one ever gets to see, yet here I am, looking to my heart's content._ The thought was going a long way to soothe the savage beast within.  _No one else will ever get to see this, I'm sure of it._

_And no one else will ever get to do_ this _, either_. 

He reached a hand down the prone body of his captive and began to unfasten his jeans. Dave swallowed and held very still. Pulling the zipper down, John turned his head so he could see what he was doing. He was greeted by the sight of white boxers bedecked with black and red playing-card suits, the fabric already tenting upwards with the release of restraint.

John breathed harder and steeled his nerves. He was going to do this. He was going to make this happen. Straightening up from where he'd been bent over beside the blond, he moved to reclaim his seat on the bench, between Dave's legs. With shaking hands, he grabbed the band of his undershorts and peeled them, along with his jeans, farther down his hips. A flushed, dripping erection was revealed, jutting impudently toward him.

For a moment, the dark-haired boy suffered an unpleasant feeling of vertigo. He was staring at another man's dick. On purpose. With the intention of touching it, nay, of stroking it even, until its owner was overcome by the pleasure wrought from his hands. Surely nothing could be gayer then that.

On the other hand, that prick belonged to Dave. And Dave was _his_.

Suddenly the idea was a whole lot more appealing.

Brushing aside his nervousness, John reached out and ran a thumb across the swollen length before him. It _jumped_ , and Dave made a strange sort of gasping exclamation.

Ooohhhh, that was... _enticing_. He repeated the motion, adding in a swirl over the tip. Dave's arms quivered as he pulled unthinkingly against his bonds. He wrapped his hand around it entirely and slid his palm up and down, and the thighs in front of him gave a slight tremor. Encouraged, he moistened his fingers with the pre-cum that was leaking out, adding it to the mix. Stuttered moaning began to escape from Dave's throat, a reflex he couldn't quite seem to get under control. John was feeling a bit more confident now. He pulled the boxers down even farther, slipping his hand around his friend's family jewels and giving them a good squeeze.

“Oh gog, Egb—John. Whatever you're doing, please don't stop!” Red eyes rolled back into his head as John increased his speed, enjoying the reaction he was getting. Really, really enjoying it. In fact, he had to take a hand away for a split-second so he could undo his own buckles, because things were growing increasingly tight down there!

The faster he pumped, the more incoherent Dave's cries became. It was intensely gratifying, to turn someone so good with words into such a gibbering mess. His feet, which were still unrestrained, were scrabbling frantically across the floor; now pointing his toes, now flat beneath him, lending him support as to buck into John's hands. John scooted closer and adjusted his legs so they were resting over Dave's splayed thighs, pinning them down. The coolkid choked on a throaty groan and tried to arch his back instead.

“Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fu—aaaaah!” he gasped at the end, and John could feel Dave's balls tighten before he was erupting across his naked belly and chest, a few splatters of fluid reaching all the way up to his collar bone.

As the last droplet fell, the blond collapsed back onto the bench, his lungs heaving. John stared at the sight before him with wide eyes, overwhelmed. Dave Strider, willfully bound and surrendered, shirtless, shadeless, his pants open, his softening member exposed, his thin, muscular torso glistening with his own release...

Something in John's brain snapped.

Leaning forward, he ran his hands up and down that vulnerable expanse of tan skin, smearing Dave's cum across every inch of it, then lifting his sticky hands to his mouth and _slurping_ them clean. He had never felt so overwhelmingly, painfully aroused in his life. Dave lifted his head to watch and shuddered, licking his lips. John spotted the motion and it inflamed him even further.

He leaped from his seat on the bench and tore at his pants, ripping them down, yanking off his shoes and divesting every last scrap of clothing as fast as he could. Stumbling back over to Dave's side, he grabbed his face in a frantic, passionate kiss before standing up and straddling him, leaning on his hands at the top of the bench and lowering his groin before his lover's lips.

“Open wide,” he commanded breathlessly.

Dave was all too happy to raise his head and oblige. As soon as the heat and moisture enveloped John's erection, he started to whimper and moan. It was all he could do to keep his trembling hips still, to stop himself from thrusting into the source of that incredible pleasure. A deft tongue was stroking up and down the sensitive sides of his shaft, now and then twirling around peak instead. Shaking, John let his head sag forward between his arms, only to realize this gave him an excellent upside-down view of Dave's handsome face, his lips wide as they worked up and down his length.

“O-oh shit, Dave, do you have _any_ idea what you're d-doing to me?” John stuttered out. Red eyes opened and peered up at him, crinkled at the corners in amusement, then winked. A moment later and the dark-haired boy cried out in ecstasy as Dave gave him a strong pull of suction, somehow still lathing him with his tongue at the same time.

He couldn't help but buck his hips now, shrieking and cursing and thanking the heavens that the locker room had such thick walls. Dave seemed to take it all in stride, though, which seemed appropriate all things considered. John quivered and watched his new lover suck him off in erotic fascination, sweat beading across every inch of his skin as his temperature rose with each pulse of his racing heartbeat. He was on fire, he was melting, he was a volcano, and like a volcano he was about to erupt.

He considered warning Dave, maybe backing out before he burst. On the other hand...

“Swallow,” he managed to growl. Dave hummed in acknowledgment, and the vibration pushed him messily to his peak.

Pulse by pulse he emptied himself, ejaculate streaming into that sinfully dexterous mouth. Dave gulped it down as fast as he could, a few trails pouring out from the corners of his lips. John moaned with the realization that the fruit of his orgasm was going to be swimming around in Dave's stomach for a while, in addition to the slime soaking into his skin and the visible mark he bore on his neck.

_Mine_ , he thought viciously, pulling out and stepping over, collapsing on the floor on his bare ass. _Mine_ , he chanted as he crawled forward again, licking the rivulets of cum from Dave's chin and feeding it back to him in a french kiss. _Mine_ , he soothed himself, running his hands reverently over Dave's sharp face, his bruised neck, his muscular arms, his lean frame. He wrapped his arms around Dave's chest as best as he could, clinging to him and hugging him, tears leaking from his eyes for no reason he could explain. 

“ _Gog_ , I love you so much, I don't even... how did it take us so long to get here?” He stood up again so he could lean over his face, desperate to see his expression.

The smile pulling his lips was so genuine, and John's heart leaped into his throat as he learned that Dave's eyes crinkled  _just so_ when he was happy. “It doesn't matter how long it took us. We have all the time in the world, now. And also... I love you too.”

John grinned, and it was bright and derpy and dorky and adorable all at once.

* * *

The two boys did manage to make it to their next period classes, unusually shower fresh. Double takes abounded wherever Dave went, now that he had abandoned his pretentious scarf. Rumors flew like wildfire; some ridiculous, some scandalously on the money. When the pair of them walked into the lunch room, nearly every eye was on them, whispers wafting through the air like a breeze.

John paused in wide-eyed alarm at the audience, Dave coming to a stop beside him.

“Nope. They don't suspect a thing,” the blond said facetiously. John snorted a laugh, his tension dissipating immediately.

“That's such a shame, then. We should educate them!”

“I'm down with it. What'd you have in mind?” 

In response, John flashed him his winning smile. Stepping forward, he wrapped an arm around Dave's neck and waist and swooped him into a dip. “Is this ironic enough?”

“Are you kidding? It's fantastic. I'm swooning, here. Look at me, all swooning all over the place. Bodices are ripping, men are turning gay, the whole nine yards.”

Blue eyes twinkled with smitten mirth, and their lips met. A stunned silence descended upon the lunchroom. Crickets chirped and everything.

Then the first cat-call went out, and the room erupted in cheers, jeers, laughter, congratulations, and sobs. John bowed and blushed as they made their way to their usual seats, where Jade was standing and applauding and Rose was shaking her head with a smile.

“I suppose felicitations are in order,” she said as they sat down. “It's about time.”

“Yeah, how long can two guys beat around the bush!” Jade interjected.

“Don't pretend you had any idea what was going on, dear. Also, that was a terrible euphemism and completely inappropriate for the situation anyway.”

“What euphemism?”

“Ladies,” Dave cut in before they could carry on any longer. “We got the picture. You saw this coming a mile away.”

“No kidding! How could two guys be up in each other's grill for so long without porking each other's sausages?”

All three of them choked in shock and stared at Jade with wide eyes.

“What?” she asked innocently, a hint of mischief twinkling in her eyes. “Now _that's_ a euphemism!”

* * *

John's bedroom was dark, the streetlight outside providing just enough illumination to lightly outline the objects in the room like foxfire. Dave's sleeping bag was still rolled up in the corner; it had been pulled out for Dad's sake but left unused. They would tell the man someday soon, but tonight they didn't want to endure the stress that particular revelation might bring. They would eventually tell Bro, too, but the only reason they were putting that off was because they didn't want to see his smug grin.

Every now and then a car would pass by on the street below, its headlights traversing the room in a brief, shadow-parting flash. In the extra light it brought, one could just make out the forms of two young men sleeping on a small bed, curled up tightly together.

On the night stand beside them, two objects glinted in the fleeting pass of light. One was a dark pair of shades, well loved and cared for. The other was a pair of square eyeglasses with thick black rims. They had been left unfolded, and the arms of each pair had somehow become intertwined with the other.

The car passes, and the light is gone once more. Through the open windows, a cool wind blows. It will be a long time until morning and the light it brings, but there is no rush.

The breeze stirs, and time moves gently forward.

**Author's Note:**

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